Loyalty flies in the face of sense
While love and friendship
Makes a fool of self
And self comes second

Well you were not worth
My loyalty nor me as friend,
Well my self is first now
And repairing a life un-maintained,

It may be a slow process
And it may take pain
But this is MY life *****
And it's mine again

I am that prince
With a razor sword who
Ventured into that twisted
Thorny forest which
None thus far survived,

I am that knight
In armour bright who
Refused to fear the vines
And spines
And bubbling vitriol,

I  am the man
Clothed now in rags,
Torn flesh and bleeding
Heart labouring for
Lack of air and

Hurting for the lack of love
In the little ways,
The ways that count,
The ways that nourish
A relationship

And make sacrifice
Not just worthwhile
But a joyous act
Of service to one
I love,

Dragging myself  
Upon all emaciated fours
Through fresh thrown
Mud and hard edged
Indifference,

I am a pile of bones  
Bleached by the sun,
Gnawed upon by wolves,
Bereft of flesh yet
Bearing even now

A kiss to wake

My sleeping

Beauty

You and I were always meant to be,
Me to meet you and indeed you me,
To fall in love with you,
That has always been my lot,
To lose those parts of me
I valued most,
My pride
My arrogance
My certainty

We were meant always to sail together and
Share a great distance,
Many memories,
To see a vast tract of water
Pass under the bridge,
To share our everything
Our selves
Our hearts,
Our souls,

And now I am lesser - for my pride,
That arrogant cancer that thought it ruled?
That vast chunk of me
Has burned away,
Reduced to ashes and even those
Carried away by the wind,
Leaving just an absence,
A charred hollow remnant
Now silent,

And I would fill that void with you,
Cram it with love for every part of you,
Pack it so tight with service of you
That not the slightest part of any other
Would or could ever intrude,
Neither thought nor action
Betray thee
Or me
Or us,

But though on your suggestion
I wrote a death sentence against that other,
Though I finessed the edges
To ensure the bolt struck a fatal blow,
Did this without demur,
Because I know what future
I desire and that with you,
Dinner with him still beckons thee,
And not informed beyond a doubt it not a date,

I had no doubt,
I acted straight to reassure you,
Contributed to make a deadly form,
And you do not see the unspoken part
Of your omission,
The unverbalised desire to
Keep your options open,

And not to make it plain before
That it is not a date.
And I  cannot now raise this again,
Despite my reasonable stance,
For you will throw the trust  card
In my face,
Pour angry vitriol upon my head,
And I would drive you where he would have you,
And that is not his sofa,
Nor your van.

I have been at sea in a hurricane,
A tempest if you will,
Unimaginable force piling salt water
Into huge forms that surge and crash,
Collapse and reform,
A never ending assault,

At sea the serried ranks
Of mountainous water
Come in succession,
Over and over and over,
Crashing and crushing
With seeming unending maelevolance,

But every storm gives way to calm
And every sea will settle,
And that is where I am right now,
Rocked by still lumpy post-storm waves,
And I will no more challenge the sea's power,
But respect it and indeed

You

Rage received is like heavy sea
Crashing against the rocks upon which stands a lighthouse,
The waves build up as they reach the shallows,
Steepening and rearing,
Building ire and power until
Smashing over and over
Against the rock and the edifice,
Obliterating any view of the tower
And the rock,

But this lighthouse is indeed built on rock,
With pilings driven deep and secure in
Faith in what lies behind the waves,
Knowlege that the storm will pass,
The sun will shine once more
And even as the salt water and vitriol
Do their worst,
Above it that light still shines out,
A message of love and security,

And these seas which crash into the rock
Were built up by the wind of actions
And words poorly founded,
In the true ocean there will always be
Another storm and another calm,
But rage can find peace now
Because the cause is calm,
The cause is kind,
The cause is gentle

And it holds you gently in my arms

...that I saw
And how did it mine eyes perceive?
For I saw - albeit with hindsights perfect focus -
Beauty and passion and God,
But how did that shine?

How did that preciousness
That value and that potential
Light mine eyes
Through all those layers
And years of accumulated ****?

Yet once seen such a glow,
However glimmering or pale,
Cannot be denied nor yet become
Unseen nor unknown, and
Definitely not undesired,

And now the effort spent
Spitting on rags,
Buffing hard to remove
Decades of perceived unworthiness
Are bearing fruit,

For now I see a more
Even lustre as my
Project and my protégé
Steps out in confidence
And power,

Shining ever brighter
With a light inextinguishable,
Because although my effort
Undoubtedly played its part ,
It's GOD that's powered this change,

Not me...

In the dream (or perhaps it is forseeing) it is cold,
The air carries whispers of ice
That cut through the warmth of my skin
Like knives,
The quay is deserted,
Quiet aside from the occasional
Breeze induced moan from
A beer bottle tossed casually away
To lie discarded and thereby
A bit like me,

As I single up the mooring lines
Of the boat below me its movement
Becomes greater,
As if shunning the cold stillness
Of the land,
And seeing this I feel kinship
With the waking hull,
And a sense of shared impending journey
To the grey seas
Beyond the harbour wall,

As I work the halyards and
Aged sails creak up the mast
The breeze becomes more evident
In the brisk flapping of canvas,
Rime frost on the gunwhales gives way
To dark hand prints as I steady myself
Moving forward and aft,
Steadily prepping for departure
In a routine well known
Across decades,

Finally all is ready,
The wind picks up,
Sundering the clouds to reveal
A clear black sky studded in diamonds,
The navigation lights
From far galaxies come to light my way
As the backed foresail
Pushes the bows away,
Then with a creak the boom quells
The flapping main,

Approaching the harbour mouth
The wind rises further and a few
Long lazy yet driven rollers
Make their presence felt,
The heel increases as the bow tastes freedom,
Nav lights on the breakwater are
Unnaturally bright but no one sees
Nor waves goodbye,
Nor ever will again for tonight
I that was James just crossed the bar

When we were together
There were ballbearings
In our lives and in our poetry
And in mine in latter days
One huge one with
Mass unarguable,

That ball of steel moved
On glistening rails,
No more sped up than slowed,
Proceeding on its way
Towards a life or solution
Beyond our ken

When the ruckus hit
And brown hit fan we might
Yet have overcome as it's a huge ball
Capable of squashing any
**** in our road
Yet you suddenly are gone

And I do not get how
You escaped the bearings path,
It and we were set for good
Yet here you aren't,
You're on a different track
With smaller bearings now

And seem unaware you ever saw
That sweet gleaming steel
That bound us once,
But that is you and you
Are weak while I remain
Ballbearing bound

My horse was showing so much promise,
Fit and healthy,
Much loved and admired
Fresh fed and groomed to a shine,

But a shiny coat and tack doesn't matter much,
What goes on the track counts more,
Amidst the thundering hooves
The sweat and flying turf

It's the placing at the line
That counts,
And my horse?
She fell

At the first.

I sit in a web of intrigue
Involved and yet inviolate,
Not touched by others sorrows yet
Feeling every lonely cry,

I tug the webs of life
In which we all are struggling
And help others make a little progress
Or ease their situation

So many know me
Yet but few have any
True sense of me and what
I am or do

Many blunder passed
While some pause reflective
And a few see something which
Registers briefly before the stupor

Washes in to take them down
But life is for those very few who
Grasp my outreached hand
And cast aside the unseen net

That binds them to a pointless
Obedient existance and those
Few those Happy few
Live with passion and with joy

How many poems have I writ?
And how easy has the process been?
To think and to conjure from my brain
Unto the printed page,

Ideas and concepts flowing
in a seamless joyous
Tide of vocabulary and
Profusion

Until a while ago.
When everything.
Just.
Stopped.

So what is it?
What is this ******* thing
That circumvents my joy
And my creativity?

Where is it skulking?
Coward! Come forth,
Be fought!
But it would not

Did not
And I did not write,
My pen was silent
But not my creativity,

Until I met some strangers
Who became immediate
Fast friends and true,
I opened up

And ideas flew,
Turns out
The block was that no one actually
Asked me to write,
No one and especially not me!

Well these new friends did,
And the blockage,
In that instant,
Died
And went

And so this verse,
Poor though it be,
And first in quite a while,
Has indeed

Snuck out

Under

The wire

Like the moon I have
A dark side,
Just as everybody does,
Even the most amazing
Alabaster lady,

But the most important
Aspect of the moon's
Dark side is not
The darkness but
The mystery,

The unknown unseen
Parts of us,
However my dark has been,
Remains indeed,
Illuminated by

Self knowledge,
A new found self respect,
Self awareness,
Aware of my great worth,
And the value that I bring,

And I finally love who I am,

Now to find the one
Who will admit
They love me too,
Entirely, wholly,
Truly

It seems I have been fighting
One way or another
My entire life,
For justice,
Recognition,
For a chance,
Success,
To right a wrong,
To be heard,
Sometimes I have simply
Been an agent of chaos,
At war with myself or
Maybe just from habit?
I really do not know,
But this thing I do now know,

I am done with fighting,
Done with begging
And proving and supplication,
Done with over egging
The situation,
Done with self recrimination
And recrimination of other people,
Done with fighting,
Done with guilt,
Finished with manoeuvring
And tactics and strategy,
Or whatever that label is,
Ÿou either love me
Or you don't,
You will want me,
Or you wont,

I no longer need to win,
I no longer need be right,
Heck I can cope
With being wrong -
Who knew?
I just need to know,
And from that moment onward,
In very truth from this one,
One way or another
You and I
Will have peace,
Because
The wars,
Are OVER,
We have reached
Our armistice

I have gained more than a few pounds of late
And my soul is feeling it too,
The fog and the darkness
Are gathering fast about me,
Smothering my endeavours and choking
My initiative,
Stopping me achieving for myself ,
Or others,

It's a sense of constantly impending doom
That follows me ever closer,
Patiently waiting to strike me down
Or just slowly asphyxiate my essence,
And remove me from that
Essential interaction with others,
And the thing is it is much like hypothermia
I know it's coming,
I know it's killing me,

And right now,

I just

don't

care

I miss the sound of water
Keening past the hull,
I miss the soughing of wind in sail
And the dull thrum of the shrouds
Like oversized guitar strings
Plucked from my heart,
By fingers felt
Yet never seen,


I miss the heel of the hull as a gust
Catches the sails,
The feel of the gunwhale
Below my buttocks as I hike out,
The restored sense of balance
As my weight matches
The turning moment
Of sail over keel,

I miss that simple shared moment
Of unity and rightness
With a crew who understands,
Or sometimes while solo
I share that instant with
The great good God that made
Me and others fit
To experience His creation

I miss the water,
I miss the wind,
I miss the feel of a taut sheet
And a tiller in my hands,
The surging sense of motion
As the shore retreats
And the horizon beckons
Me forward

I miss all these things and yet
Even as I type this verse,
At the end of another day,
Another week and with another
Boatless weekend ahead,
Like all good fish heads,
In my head and in my heart
I am - still - sailing

I have said I love you
So many times,
Yet that was not enough,
I have changed my very
Heart and soul
To return the real me,
That too was not enough,
I have buttled and battled
For you and for us,
Put self last and
Impoverished myself,
Even so twas not enough

Til now as if waking,
The worried words of friends
Break through,
Ring true,
For all that I
Poured myself out
Over and into you,
The return on my investment,
Love and heart and soul,
That return - requited nurture,
That visceral need for me,
That love returned,
It is actually THAT

Thats

Not

Enough

We know my history,
The black bits are recent
And very well picked over
And more inquisition
Is yet to come,
Of that there is
No doubt,

But I am not chasing a history,
At least not one that has
Yet been made,
I am rather chasing
A future yet to be,
A future and relationship featuring you,
A future featuring me

So what do I bring to the party?
What goodness might I add?
What benefit to your life
Lies within me?
We know the darkness
And have tasted it
More than enough,

Well the darkness in me
Was torn out by the root,
My deeper good sees now
That machiavellian maneuvers
Do not carry the day
Nor bring satisfaction or even
A shred of victory,

And that deeper decent
Part of me now rejects that
Darker path in favour of the truth,
No matter what the pain,
To me or any other,
For sensitivity can sometimes Be but an excuse to lie,

So away with BS what is left?
As it happens my lady love,
What is left is all that you
Ever believed you had,
For truth be told,
And I am bleeding hard as I type these words
The good you saw was not a lie,

I truly am the knight
That these pages do reflect,
I am at heart a loyal warrior,
Who's sword and heart
Belong to you,
My eyes will not wander
Nor my hand,

But that is airey fairey stuff,
What of the real world?
I hear you ask
I promise always to be at your side,
To have your back come what may,
To support you in every way
With every thing I own,

My physicality and expertise,
My wit and my comfort
Especially my embrace and my hug
A massage on demand
My money such as I may ever have
I dedicate to us
With an open heart,

I will be your secret if you wish, Or if allowed
I will broadcast from the rooftops
That love we share,
And we will own our relationship
Without shame because
We found the truth of us
In love between our hearts,

I will not leave you lady,
Not while these lungs draw breath,
I will honour you in every way I can,
I will do jobs about your house,
Your wish be my command,
Because in pleasing you I find
I find mine own reward,

And I will love you,
Quietly and with humility,
All the days of my life,
I will delight in your successes
And comfort you in distress,
You will never need to seek
An ally nor for help

For this loving man already
Is these things,
And we will live out our dreams,
Bring good and joy
To the wider world,
As well as to
Each other

Yours the hand that found the wolf
Hid deep and quiet
In a cave that none could find,
Yours the hand that coaxed
Him forth to the light of day,

Yours the hand that provoked a howl,
That echoed through my soul
In shades of history long forgot,
Yours the hand that soothed
The hackles raised in vulnerability

Yours the scent that woke the man,
That made life a thing
To grasp and relish,
To make of me the best I can
To be the best for you,

Yours the hand and heart and soul
On which I am imprinted - and
From which I doubt I'll e'er be free,
You my lady and you my love,
Only you, only you, only you

Pain I can take,
It's just nerves firing when all is said and done,
A few tiny tiny electrical impulses
Advising of damage or of hurt,

If it's not my head then
I can grasp it and isolate it and mitigate it
And bring the problem under control,
Mostly and more often than not,

Even a heart attack did not
Preclude a presentation duly prepared,
Albeit quieter and more hesitantly delivered
Than my usual confidence,

But the turning of friend
To unreasoning and un-listening foe,
This thing cannot be grasped nor quenched,
Even by a horse sized aspirin,

It leaves ones heart
Pierced with a jagged blade
That rips and tears a hole beyond
Imagining or control,

Faith and care and love
Hemorrhage uncontrolled
Like the tears that course down my face,
Or will if I permit,

The pain I cannot contain
But stoicism is my friend
This day and stoicism
Will stem the flow

Eventually

I lost an eight year old,
I don't know where
He is but I'm pretty
Sure he's gone
For good,

Thank God for that small mercy!
He drove me mad
Controlling my ****** life,
Rude and selfish little ****,
Unbearable little ****,

I still have a hurting
Babe in arms though,
Weeping in his pain,
But he is healing fast
As I hold him to my heart

And tell him from
My adult self
That it's okay now,
He is much loved,
And all will indeed

Be well.

So you have bombed the dam
And released your rage
Upon the valley below,
Sought to sweep away
That which irks,
Destroy me and us,
Move on triumphant
From all that was,
Just as you have before,

Yet there is a flaw in your
Rank intent to wipe clean
The slate and me remove
From your life
And the one we shared,
Because in amongst the
Eddies of the valley flooded
By your rage,
I am still here standing

With arms outstretched

Waiting on your return

You may not know you love me,
You may not value that love you know I bear,
You may not see the service
That I provide,
Nor desire the years of love
And dedication that I
Offered from figurative
And indeed a literal knee,

But I know you do love me,
Just hoped you'd show it more,
Although in fact you do show it when
The chips are down,
I DO value my love,
A truer and rarer thing
You will not find,

The service?

Meh! I love you
So it just came but
It made a difference to your life,
The years that I have offered Appear to count for nowt,
But they are what remains
Of me,
Offered in humility

And love,
To me these things were
And are
Important,
Not so readily cast aside,
Yet it seems you may not
Find an answering flame inside,
And even that maybe concept Really really hurts,

For me love is an absolute thing
That far surpasses Corinthian definition,
It is a joyful passion,
And those afflicted delight in every slightest
Touch or word or contact,
And cannot wait for the next opportunity
To share by call or message or text or touch
That love which whirls and spins ones heart about
In a wonderful dance of committed care
And passion,
Both carnal and divine,

But alas it seems in your view
These things I neither did nor do in fact
Share with thee,
But rather - in your view but not in mine -
To my sadness and my shame,
Did rather inflict them on thee
From insecurity,
Without so much as a by your leave,
The worst of many misunderstandings
And one which would make a lesser man weep,

However love remains inviolate
If the heart that beats it remains fast and true,
As mine does,
True to that which has been professed,
True to the woman to which it is trothed,
True to that love which is unrelenting,
And how you feel about my motives does not change a thing
Bar one for,
In my world if thy lover is not secure in any respect
Then you ****** well make them so

Come sail with me as we did before
Our rage and my stupidity
Got in the way
Of love,

Come step into the boat with me,
You remember it,
White and blue
And full of love,

Come grasp the tiller,
Haul in the sheet,
Take us in hand and sail
With me to common purpose,

There is no space for
Anything but peace while sailing,
No space for owt but love
Between us,

And love and happiness with you are

Enough for me

I have always been a warrior,
Full of the energy
That gets **** done,
A powerful man,
A tank,
Going where and with and doing
Whatever the heck
I want,

But, like a tank,
Impervious to the hurts
Of others
The pain and damage caused
To roads and hearts,
A tracked and nacissistic
Behemoth of - as now I see -
Blind unthinking chaos,

Well no more of that ****,
With all that I am done,
For I have found the joyous freedom
To be gained by removing my helm,
Opening the turret,
To see and admit
My mistakes
And drive with consideration,

I cannot mend the roads
Nor undo all the harm Ive wrought,
But I can be transparent now,
Humble and chastened too,
Rediscover that better me,
The one worth loving,
That authentic James
And I can make a gift of him,

Of me

To you

I was ever affection over expectation,
A gentleman to the core,
I wanted love and the real deal,
Not *** with a willing *****,

Affection over expection true,
But laid upon a bed of want and hope,
Of Cupids arrow in my heart
But aimed and fired by who?

And there's the rub as I turn to dust,
For Cupids flight was elsewhere,
Not near me nor near mine heart,
His bow and arrows dormant,
And starting now
To rust

I always thought that diamond
Was the hardest state on earth,
I always knew it *******
Just about all things,
Until today,

For it turns out that making Good ones **** ups is far harder,
Let alone receipt of forgiveness
From the one I harmed the most

But a diamonds value is not just
In its hardness but
Also rarity and the time spent polishing
And cutting the end design,

And thus also my reward,
God willing,
Will come from the offer of
A lifetime of loving service,

Of all that I am
All that I can be,
For she is worth all of that
And oh so very much more.

Laid to the tree,
Which shivers with every blow,
A few leaves shimmying down
Before their time,
Their green already starting brown,

Another slash of a knife
Across the cords of the hawser
That binds us in life and love,
An ominous cracking creak
As our hulls inch further apart,

Every forgotten little thing
That means nothing to you
Is a wedge, and even those
That do matter? the forgetting
Doesn't matter to you,

And this is why we are
Diverging and inexorably parting,
Because all you see is you,
Your sole perspective is viewed from you,
No empathy or care,

And when the tree falls,
The moorings part,
And you find yourself alone
On a lonely sea,
I  doubt you will understand

But sure as eggs is eggs,
I know you'll say
It's my fault.

Is a precious commodity,
Hard won and easily lost,
And once lost doubly, triply,
A thousandfold harder to regain,
A fact of which I am reminded
Over and ever over
By those who appoint themselves
To my judging panel,

No matter any right for redemption,
Repentence or change,
Only the justifief raging of the injured,
The gleeful snarling of the lookers on,
It is enough that a man might
Reasonably give pause and thoughts of ending,
Indeed I have had bleakness
Well up enough to drown me,

Pulled and pushed toward the dark,
Towards despair,
Towards oblivion,
Towards an ending offering restitution to the injured
And entertainment to the chattering hangers on
But my spirit is strong enough,
Or maybe I am just
Too ****** obstinate,

I have survived long enough
To see that other force,
The one that can rescue even a wretch like me,
Even the sorest damaged victim
From this dismal purgatory,
From perennial, repeated argument,
Recrimination and pointless sniping,
A veritable undeniable force,
So gentle yet indomitable,
A force to sunder grief and reconnect aching hearts,

Put aside the rage and hurt
Dismiss the hangers on,
(Prurient perverts all,)
And build anew
A better stronger life,
An edifice anchored
Upon rock
And that force

That thing between us,
That revelation that mystery
All along was love,
Love in all its glory,
Corinthian love,
Patient and kind,
Unenvying and humble
Honourable not self seeking,

Above all
Slow to anger and swift to forget
A slight or insult,
That love I found still feebly burning
In my heart for thee,
And peering through the battle smoke,
Sifting through the wreckage
Of us,

I found that same dim flame in you,
Flame I now gently blow upon,
Nurture and feed,
Watch grow back towards a greatness
Sufficient to burn old wounds,
Incinerate infection and leave behind
Hearts touched by a refiners fire,
Silver-proofed against doubt despair.and trepidation.

OUR hearts
OUR love,
OUR future.
And
I
Am
******
Glad

You've taken my beau away
Without a thought and then
Do not care,
"It's not appropriate"
To give it back again

And you do not know,
Or perhaps you did,
Or do,
How much that sobriquet
Meant and means to me

Or how keen and deep the knife wound
Through my chest
And heart at losing it,
And feeling torn as you from
Me draw part

Til nothing left
No name of love or
Of affection remains,
Just some bloke you knew
Who's name was James

My old friend,
A famous song and I love to be in the dark of a near silent wood,
Especially with good company
Of worthy friends,
But the darkness referred to in the song is nobody's friend,

The darkness of the soul when life goes south,
When illness strikes or hearts are broken
Then darkness comes
To **** out life and joy
And happiness,

I am in that darkness now
But I refuse to submit,
I will NOT sit blinded
By my sadness and
That which is inflicted,

I shall live my grief
And outlast it until such time
As love returns and the sun rises
On a new day
Or a returning love

One way or another my heart will sing again

I shall prevail

I sit once more dismissed,
A lonely figure in my head and my heart,
Aware of the specific trigger
For my sacking as your partner, lover, friend,
Yet also keenly aware that

Once again ADHD has twisted reality
And scale and proportion
To the point your rage knows
Nearly no bounds,
Only that I must be destroyed

And in this there is such
Injustice and a great untruth,
Because I read your verse,
I see the photo's we took even on a day
When we met but to part,

And what I see,
What I see over and over and over,
Is the flow of love from thee to me
And me to thee and thence back,
A circular intimacy without end,

Until you took bolt cutters to it
Sought to free a link in the chain
You feel has bound me to you
And you to me,
And us to we,

But here is the thing love,
That loop is like Hercules soul,
'Tis harder than you think to cut,
There is always a hair's breadth
You cannot ever sever,

Yet for now I must wait alone in the shadows,
Away from the warmth of our love,
That irrational you that arose from
Pain and ADHD
Must depart before

The real us

Can

Return

Trains and their journies
Come in all shapes
And indeed
All sizes,

Mine was six feet
And three inches
Long and maybe
Wider than should,

It ran at various
Speeds and with
All sorts of success
And indeed of failure,

I guess a few first class
Carriages and a load of thirds,
With a well crammed
Car of baggage,

Arguable the quality
And standard of the journey too
Yet never mind it's aims,
That departing platform one?

That service once
Was James

Peace eludes the twisted heart
Or callous soul,
Even when twists and callousness
Are aimed at avoiding pain,

Peace eludes the heart
Divided against itself
And the mouth with
A forked tongue

Will find no calm,
But truth delivered,
Though full of fear
And creating pain

Now therein lies
The peace of a righteous man,
Even if that truth he speaks
Is painful,

And if that truth is
Given freely
And with good intent
Even after some delay

Then that man
Can also be
Just as good
As that truth he speaks

I have given you the bakery,
The flour mill,
The barn,
I have passed the keys and title
To these allegories of
My heart entire,
Placed them in your care,
Expecting the deeds to your
Estate at some point in return,
Your physicality,
Your romance,
Love
And your desire and yet
Your response is nary
A crumb,
Let alone a slice or a loaf
From even my own oven,
The flour that I have planted and grown,
And harvested and milled,
All counts for nowt,
So I'm folding those deeds away now,
And watching and waiting
To see what crop
You choose to reap instead,
What crop,
Which farm,
And indeed with whom.

Having caused much pain
And upset to one I love
I looked long and hard
At me to find the root
Of my failing,

I cut deep and discarded
My ego my pride
And a host of other bad
Habits that accrued
Across the years,

And deep within me
I found an eight year old
Little boy with arms
About his knees,
Head down,

His tear streaked face
Framing a mouth that
Screamed silently in pain,
Heartbreak and
Loneliness,

So I looked within
That visceral version of me,
Cutting deeper than before,
And right at his heart
I found a budded rose,

At first glance
It was perfect,
But closer view showed
Dessication discolour
And paper thin petals,

But even as I watched
Your hand appeared,
Caressed the child
Then watered his
Withered heart,

And in an instant that bud Regained its lustre
And its carmine hue,
The petals spread to glorious flower,
The silent screaming paused

In wonder then delight,
I realise now there
Was no fault in me nor
My heart or view
I just needed watering

With love

From you

"Know that I care"
She said,
But care was fickle
And changed
Its nature and consequence
While my care stays constant
And suddenly out of tune
And unacceptable

"Know that I care,
That I am there"
She said as if blind
To the impossibility
Of that being wholly true
Or of being ever called upon
By untuned unreciprocated
Love or need

"Know that I care"
When I hear of
Your demise in a fast boat,
In improbable storm
At high speed,
Know that I care
And love you wholly
And now too late

I am that well that
Was never dug,
Some people laid scratches
In the earth
But that was all,
Discovered that digging
Is hard and takes
Up effort,
When my soil was not
Already freshly dug
They elect to dig elsewhere,
And leave my copious
Waters untapped,
Unsupped,
Unloved

I wrote that my
Eight year old
Is no longer screaming,
That a loving hand
Watered the budded rose
Deep within him
And therefore me,
And thereby changed
EVERYTHING,

Now life is like walking
Across an ancient battlefield,
I know for sure
That armed struggle
And violence took place
Right where I walk,
But now the breeze
Carries only the sound
Of bird's songs

My feet swish through
Meadow grass,
No longer mud
From Flanders fields,
I like,
No in fact I love
Walking here now,
Will you perhaps
Come walk here too?

This heart will last me a lifetime
If only because when it fails,
I fail,
But this heart, barely half way through its span is already much damaged,
For whilst the attack that did not claim me
Left no visible disease
The slings and arrows of emotional assaults, betrayal
And cunning, low and savage attack
Have left an invisible mark,

Every selfish unwarranted ******
Leaves a hole which heals slowly,
Oozing my life's essence all the while
Until the damage is patched by a layer of hard scabrous tissue,
A crude patch to mend a hole
Yet limiting the function once there found,
A tiny or not so small area which is not quite the same
And cannot fully carry its load any more,
A small damaged piece of me,
That fails

One such part? Hardly worth the notice and
Already as always forgiven,
But it is not just the one small part is it?
It's a fine network of such holes with the occasional larger ****
Where the stab was sawn and worked and
Widened with savage glee
Yet still healed or healing and still already
And as always forgiven                                                         ­                         
But the whole of me that part not stiffened and dead
Is smaller now

That shrinkage is not visible to the outside world
Nor will it be yet the shrinkage of useable
Worthwhile working tissue
Leads only one way and at this ever increasing rate
Of damage the end is coming close,
But who cares?
Well no one it appears
Because the attacks and the wounds are neither slower
Nor stopped,
So soon instead it seems
I will,
My heart will


Stop
Stopped

A hand that is open clings to nothing and no one
And none can tear its grip away as it holds but air,
A hand that is open is unthreatening,
An open hand is peace,
An open hand invites welcome and presence,
An open hand over the heart is a greeting,
Even if that heart
Is breaking

When something is lost,
As my keys were,
One searches for it
With varying degrees
Of diligence and desperation,

We trace and retrace our steps,
Looking in the same spaces
For the same thing
With the same result,
But wearier each time

Until at last the item
Is retrieved and found,
In that case by you,
Keys sun-glinting
In your hand

A wonderful shared moment,
Relief and triumph,
A happy weariness
At laying eyes upon the lost
Now found,

Yet how does it work,
This new dynamic?
Because what is lost
Is right here in my heart,
She can be hugged and yet

Is still

Utterly

Lost

I love you,
As such I desire you
In every respect,
Wish to be included in your life
Include you indeed in mine,
Honour you and make a life of us,
Do not mistake
True honest love and desire
For neediness,
Nor weakness or even lack
Of self esteem,
These may be in the lexicon
Of others in your past
But if that be your true
Perception of me then you stand
To lose both your perceived
View and also alas
The truth.

We are all the sum
Of choices made,
Whether right or whether wrong,
Made in good faith
Or in bad,
And the Good Lord knows
I have made many good but
Also many bad,
Worse than that I have acted
Upon the worst of these,
As much as on the best,
But here is the question
That I wonder,
When it came from push
To shove,
I chose
You,
Did I do right to love you?
Or is this love just another
Poor and painful
Choice?
Only you can truly answer,
But to see that I have invested My all in your net nothing
Would break my heart

I had a near miss
The other day,
Or at least it certainly
Felt like one

Felt the mortal coil
Slip a bit lower,
Fall a little looser
About my frame,

And although I was
Distraught at not being
Able to see my kids
Nor to set all records straight

At least I'd turned a corner
Into truth and love,
And as I closed my eyes
A final time I knew

I'd told my final Lie,
Knew I'd chosen
Truth and love
Before my final breath

My eyes do not lie,
They blaze my would be secrets
About the place like a lighthouse
Illumning the safe route home,

They call out my decency yet
Also my passion and my
Lack of limit,
My wanton desire mixed with generosity

They shout that I will have you
If that be thy desire yet not that
Deepest part of me will
Any other have,

Which makes me what?
For I am not for sale and I am
Keeper of many secrets,
Perhaps a form of succubus

Describes me best,
My drugs of choice are
Secrets whispered quietly
Sincerely and occasionally in shame,

My eyes scream they're hiding secrets
Yet also show somehow that none shall
Ever be revealed,
And so it is for me,

A rolling succession of
Those who want so much yet get but
That which they truly need,
My eyes see all

My heart knows all,
My fingers trace the lines and
Passions of others lives
And futures,

My eyes oversee my
Meandering toward that cliff
Whence none have returned bar one,
And it is He to whom I will

Reveal both mine all
and their everything

You write of him
Who has passed a while,
Extant now only as ash
Within a porcelain jar,

You write of the bitter
Arrogance of anger
Left unresolved and
You not released from pain,

Of these you write,
And these you feel
With such pain
Such loss,

But he IS gone!
His vitriol has no power here,
No right to use your voice
Nor fuel your rage,

Nor create in you
His reincarnate toxicity,
Your are not him
Nor ever were,

You are your mothers child
Her softness tempers his
Vile intransigence,
And you need not go there,

So let him go
Into the shades of time
And away from this reality,
And your life,

And look instead to
That which is around you,
Loves you and has your back,
For I my love

Have yet to cross the bar

And I would sail with you,
Aboard your vessel
Or in closest company,
You escort and protector,

Your lover and your very
Very best friend,
The one who has your back
The one that you can count upon,

Fifty years or so with luck
I have and you much the
very same,
Will you share mine with me,
And let me share yours,

With you?

How many times have
We each said that
One to another,
You to me
And me to you,
Just a word and yet
A whole sentence,
Entire paragraphs on occasion,
Hey hello,
Hey how's it going?
Hey, I have missed you
And I love you
And I am so very very glad
We are in one another's lives
Because it, and this, and we
Are precious,

And although you in your mood
And anger and self-righteous
ADHD infused rage
May never say hey to me
Again in this life,
Even though soon
If not already
Your strop will thaw
And your softness return but
Stay painted in a corner
Against the risk of finding love,
Although you only see the ****** bits
And focus on anything but those
Truly great memories we have,
Despite all that
I am am still here,
And despite verse two I am still
Standing here,

And I am still saying

HEY

Can you hear?

444 months ago,
Give or take a few,
And 444 miles it seems,
Are time and distance
That define a tragedy
Of my youth,

For I was too much the gentleman
And the officer,
And you in your beauty
And naivete
Or so I thought

Too young to read
The signs carved in words,
Roads miles driven,
Time in dinghy upon the Dart,
To hear the words unsaid,
Torn from my very heart,

So 444 miles were complete,
444 months sailed past
As once past Sandquay we
Surpassed
The time we were allowed,
And DQ sanction held me fast

Lucy in the sky will sing no more,
To an audience made of one,
And ghosts of younger thee and me,
Still mourn what we might have won,
And older wiser heads and hearts,
Will wonder ever more,

What might,

Have been